Author's Lament: A Cautionary Tale
by Graphospasm
Summary: They're angry. And when I say angry, I mean PISSED OFF. Like, royally. So what do they want? REWRITES? But that'll take weeks! Too bad, though. I brought it on myself. A REVENGE fic, because the YYH boys are tired of my shenanigans.
1. Chapter 1

FORWARD (PLEASE READ THIS):

_I've long been a sorta-fan of the "author gets stalked by members of their fandom because they're offended by the author's work" type of fiction, so I decided to give it a shot at long last. So, this thing is sort of... well, it's really just a shameless self-insertion. Let me be the first to admit that this is more of a vanity piece than anything, and that it should be BY NO MEANS TAKEN SERIOUSLY. Yes, 'Georgia' (my real name, sadly enough) is a slightly more decisive version of myself, and 'Virginia' really is my sister (no jokes about state naming themes; I'll be doing those myself) and she really did get married recently. But no, the rest of this is untrue. This little story is just a "what if" account of how shit might go down if it actually did go down, and I hope you find it at amusing because I'm not hoping for much more than that. Also, PinkWing does not exist... with that name, at least. And the narrator's voice came out a lot less like mine than it did a created character's, so I don't really feel like this is very 'me' anymore. But since I started this with myself in mind, I won't fudge it up by saying it's totally a character. It's self-insertion, and I apologize. I have a raincoat ready for the rotten produce you'll throw at me. Still, I hope you find something to enjoy in this. I know I had fun writing it! But enough of me. On with the story!_

* * *

A Tale of Shameless Self-Insertion

or

An Author's Lament: A Cautionary Tale

* * *

Part One: The Exposition (Need-to-know, but boring)

* * *

Timidity is one of those things that people notice about me first, along with hair color and eye color and height. "Oh, look, she's so tall," people think, "and quiet. And twitchy. Good God, she looks like she'd cry if a chihuahua growled at her, never mind that she could sit on it and kill it. Weird. What childhood trauma caused that, I wonder?"

Well, at least I_ think _that's what they think. Another facet of my personality is unfailing social nervousness, but that's a story for another day. Today's story is, as you will see, a lot more... _extraordinary_ than my plethora of quirks.

But I'm rambling. Let me start at the beginning. _Way_ at the beginning.

I spent childhood summers at my grandma's house. She had cable. My house didn't even have a TV. And back in the days when Yu Yu Hakusho still played on Cartoon Network's Adult Swim block, I would stay up til ungodly hours to watch it. This was a secret affair: volume on maybe level 4, crouched right up next to the speakers, with a blanket draped over both myself and the television set so that as little light as possible could peek under the bedroom door. Even back then I was nervous, I guess. The fact of the matter is that I held an inexplicable love for Suzaku (even now the baddies tend to be my favorites), but I could never remember his name or even the name of the show because I was maybe eleven and had trouble with the Japanese bits.

I always seemed to tune in to the Suzaku arc, too, which is a little piece of serendipity for you to think about.

Anyway, and then Yu Yu Hakusho got taken off of Adult Swim and disappeared (into Toonami, but I never knew until it was off of _that_, too, so it hardly matters). I was devastated, but then distraction in the form of Big O and Kikaider and Yu Gi Oh made Yu Yu Hakusho seem less important. Several years of zero Yu Yu Hakusho passed (and remember, I couldn't even recall show's name) until one day I saw a copy of Shonen Jump magazine with a Yu Gi Oh cover sitting on a Blockbuster newsstand. In it was a full-color page of the YYH gang, and the minute I saw Hiei's grumpy little face and Kurama's sexually ambiguous body shape I got hit with nostalgia so hard I almost barfed.

And I'm not kidding about the barfing bit.

So I got reacquainted with the boys on that chilly September day. Obsession was born. Eagerly I awaited each month's new SJ installment, which bore within its hallowed pages the next chapters of Yu Yu Hakusho. And then I discovered OneManga on the net, and I was able to read to the series's ending without months of waiting between chapters. High school rolled around, and so did the end of my SJ subscription. But then I saw copies of the anime in Best Buy and got a summer job to buy them all, one disc at a time, on my measly waitressing salary. Of course, I had to balance this collecting with my lust for novels, so the DVDs took a while to make it onto my shelf, but make it they did. I wore them ragged. The manga volumes came next, as did random merch from eBay and the only anime hobby store in town. My collection grew, expanded, made my parents shake their heads at my hoarding. Plushies, posters, figurines, two puzzles, shirts, limited edition cards, keychains, a hat, a bag, a wristband, soundtracks, karaoke discs (they exist!) and the elusive and oh-so coveted artbooks... the obsession knew no bounds.

Fanfiction came not long after.

It started small. Reading here and there, the occasional anonymous review, and finally an account made with a giant helping of hesitation on the side. But the first stories I posted were just awful: Mary Sues, self-inserts, an out of character canon cast, total disregard for said canon, yaoi that made no sense, cross dressing, turning Kurama and Hiei into girls (I was good at that one)... if you can name it and it's bad, odds are I did it. I got enough flames to make Nero jealous. As a result, that account was abandoned and a new one was created, but I left the stories up. I worked so hard on them, after all, even if they were atrocious, and I couldn't trash them all without shedding a few tears I was not willing to spend on such monstrosities.

But that account—that awful scar on fanfiction's face—hasn't just gone and disappeared from view now that I've disconnected myself from it. It's caused me a whole lot of grief. I regret not doing away with it permanently. Especially now, after everything that's happened.

Let's start at the beginning again. This beginning, however, is the start of the real story. No more exposition. No more explanation. Just three, two, one ACTION.

Starting... now.

* * *

Part Two: The Setting and the Scene (Also need-to-know, but less boring)

* * *

"What do you _mean_ I'm not invited? Virginia, _everyone's_ invited! You can't just not_ invite _me!"

My sister sighed and threaded her fingers through her hair. "I'm not uninviting you," she said, running her tongue over her lips. I could tell she was tired from the way her lids sagged over her so-blue eyes. "I'm just un-bridesmaiding you. There's a big difference."

"But I've been fitted for my dress," I protested. _And the seamstress wasn't half as interesting as Madeleine, or even Olivia, _I thought as I sourly recalled my 'Stripped' OCs.

"You and Amy are the same size, Georgia. Like, almost exactly."

"Why did you even ask me if you were going to kick me out at the last minute?" I pressed. "I don't understand this at all! You and Amy aren't even that close!"

She pegged me with a look so acidic I thought I would melt. "Amy was my college roommate! We talk all the time, and I was in her bridal party last June. I asked you because she thought she couldn't make it, and now that she can I would really like to have her be a part of this. I thought that since you're my sister you would let me do this out of sibling love or something, but I guess I was wrong."

_Oh, that's so low,_ _bringing on the guilt, _I thought. "Fine, have her instead of me," I said, gripping my mug of coffee in sore hands. My carpal tunnel was acting up again; I needed to wear my braces or the pain would be intolerable in a few hours. "I'm sorry I'm such a bad sister." I stood up, walked over to the kitchen sink, and poured my mug of coffee down the drain. "I'll be up stairs if you need me, not that you will."

"You know that's not the case. Just try to be an adult about this, OK? For me? I'm getting married tomorrow."

"Yeah, yeah," I grumbled, leaving her alone at the kitchen table._ I'm such a brat, _I thought. With a heavy heart I trudged up the stairs and into my room. It hadn't changed much in the year I had spent away from home at a college halfway across the country, still dripping with the same Yu Yu Hakusho and Say Anything posters that I had idolized as a highschooler/middleschooler. There were a few gaps in the collage, however, from where I had taken a few of the choicest pictures down to cart along to my dorm room at the university.

Walking across the room was bit of a challenge, considering how I was living out of a suitcase for the duration of my week-long homestay (laziness is another fault of mine; the effort of putting my suitcase full of clothes away in drawers just didn't seem worth it considering how I would have to repack in a week). I flopped down onto my bed and got lost in its quagmire of fluffy pillows.

I sat up soon enough, however, when a disturbing thought occurred to me.

"Just what am I going to wear to the wedding now that I don't have that bridesmaid's dress?" I said aloud. The phrase was followed by an urgent quest for an outfit, and I tore into my suitcase and closet in a frenzy.

* * *

Part Three: Rising Action (or is this still a part of the setting?)

* * *

"I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride!"

As Richard dipped Virginia low and kissed her through his curtain of a walrus mustache, I stood up alongside my parents and cheered and clapped and otherwise made merry with the best of them. My heart wasn't really in it, however, just as I wasn't really into the pale pink chiffon gown one of my well-meaning cousins had lent me when I discovered that I had forgotten to pack any of my dresses for the trip home. She was much shorter than me, however, so the dress hit me at the mid-thigh and was low-cut enough to make my breasts stand out more than I was comfortable with. Everyone told me I looked nice, though, so as confetti rained down from some unknown source and fell into my cleavage and started to itch like a MOTHER, I took comfort in the knowledge that I didn't look like a total idiot.

The bridesmaids, however, in their teal halter dresses with poofy skirts, did look like idiots. I reveled in this fact as my sister ran down the aisle and disappeared beneath a vine-wound archway to the sound of happy screams.

"Well, off to the reception, then," my dad said from my left.

"I have to run and make sure the caterers finished setting up," my mom said from my right before she vanished among the crowd of my relatives. Sunshine made her brown up-do glimmer for a second before I lost sight of her.

"It was a beautiful wedding," Dad said as we joined the throng. Someone stopped to shake his hand and give me a small hug; the old woman (one of my aunts, or something) smelled like mothballs.

"Yeah," I said as she went away, and I looked around to take it all in. Virginia had held the ceremony at a large outdoor amphitheater with a raised platform on one side. She'd stood on that to take her vows; flowers were everywhere, both arranged and wild since the amphitheater was in the middle of an arboretum. It was so lovely, foliage glowing like gems everywhere you looked, and the only thing really marring it was the big glass building that constituted the arboretum's information office and a large reception hall they'd built especially for wedding parties. It was a popular place, which was understandable considering its beauty.

"So when are _you _getting married?" Dad joked as we walked indoors. The cold air conditioning made my shoulders—bare but for thin spaghetti straps—break out in gooseflesh.

"Not for a long time," I said.

"Aw, really? I'm looking forward to paying for another wedding."

I raised an eyebrow as we walked through the crowded lobby and into the ballroom proper. Lined with mirrors and hung with crystal chandeliers, it was as beautiful as the outdoors, but in a different way. People milled around by the bar and by the tables dripping with white cloths and blue flower arrangements. Crystal cups and gold plates and glimmering cutlery gleamed, and the massive five-tiered cake on the center table drew my eyes like a lodestone.

"Mom really put a pinch on the penny-pincher in you," I said as I watched the aforementioned woman scurry around the buffet table. The reception was quite informal, so instead of the eight course meal and live music my mother wanted my sister had insisted on the buffet setup and a DJ. It still looked expensive, though.

"Uh-huh. Wait a while before you get hitched, Georgia."

Virginia appeared with her new husband a little while later. Everyone ate a meal together and congratulated the bride, and then the music started. The bride danced with our father and then her husband before everyone broke out into random groups (intensity of dancing in direct proportion with alcohol consumption), and I watched from the safety of the family table because a good dancer I am not.

I watched Virginia and Richard dance together on a rather fast song with glazed eyes. My sister's pink cheeks, blue eyes, and dark hair made her look so beautiful, and with a pang I realized I was more than a little jealous of her new found happiness. It was so obvious she was in love...

I didn't realize someone was standing over me until they reached out to lay a hand on my shoulder. Startled, I twisted in my seat to look at them, and my mouth dropped open.

_Helloooo, gorgeous,_ I thought. Honey-gold eyes, chocolatey hair, symmetrical features, tall, dreamy, oh-wow-I-really-hope-we're-not-related... he was that kind of looker.

So why, then, was he talking to plain-Jane _me_?

He tilted his head to the side (the motion made his bangs do interesting and wonderful things to the composition of his face) and stared down at me. A smile made his lips curl, slowly, and my heart fluttered in my chest. "I'm sorry to interrupt," he said as he retracted his hand. _Don't be,_ I thought. "But you looked lonely. Would you like to dance?"

My jaw tightened and the flutters turned into pounds. "I don't know if I can," I said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

He glanced at my feet. "I'd ask if you have two left feet, except that it's obvious you don't."

I laughed._ Ooh, he's funny, too. _"Nothing that incriminating. I'm a bad dancer."

Just then the music changed to a slow, even song. A waltz, maybe? I'm not musical so I couldn't tell.

He held out a hand, palm up, fingers slightly curled. "Then I'll teach you."

I hesitated. Why was he so... insistent with me? Boys never hit on me!

His head titled to the side again. "A pretty girl should never be without a dance partner."

My blush was immediate and intense, and my hand fell atop his on its own. He guided me out of my seat and onto the dance floor with long, graceful steps. He looked good, no, great, in a tux, I decided. Was he one of Richard's relatives? I was certain I had never seen him before in my life.

And yet...

I thought that the dancing would be like an awkward middle school dance—you know, when the girl puts her hands on the guy's shoulders, the guy puts his hands on the girls waist (or hips, depending on boldness) and they stand a good two feet apart and just sway together like stiff mannequins. I even tried that at the beginning, but my friend slipped an arm around my waist and pulled me very nearly flush up against his chest. My cheeks burned as he guided one of my hands to his shoulder and the other into his own. He kept a few inches of space between us, but not much more. I could feel the heat of him radiating out toward me.

"This dance requires a four count," he said in my ear. "Step back with your left in three, two, one."

And before I knew it, we were dancing.

The song ended before I had a chance to really relish it. The young man spun away from me and smiled. I smiled back, rather giddy to tell you the truth, and another slow song came on. Once again, he put his arm around my waist and guided me through the steps without much of a hitch.

"See, you can dance," he said.

"This isn't as hard as I thought," I said, happy.

"And neither is making a mockery of other peoples' lives, I suppose?"

I kept dancing for a moment before what he said caught up to me. Then I stumbled in our rhythm and stopped moving, but he urged me along and didn't let me quit.

"I don't know what you mean," I said at last, trying not to trip over my feet or my tied-up tongue.

"Oh, but I think you do, PinkWing."

I thought it was a pet name for a second considering the color of my dress, or something. Then it sank in. I let go of him and shoved him away, struck dumb. Where had I heard that phrase before? I mean, _PinkWing_? That wasn't something you'd just forget or come up with on a whim.

Which meant that he _knew_...

"Where did you hear that name?" I asked, utterly confused. "And who are you, really?"

He tossed his head, hair flying. "You know me quite well," he said, and turned smartly on his heel. "Expect to hear from me sooner rather than later. And try to be prepared."

And a few seconds later he was gone, ghost-like.

* * *

Part Four: The Rising Action (Up, up, and away!)

* * *

I asked Virginia who he was, of course, but she didn't recall seeing him. Neither did Richard, and no one could pinpoint an individual matching the young man's description. A gatecrasher, they said, dismissing my anxiety entirely. Don't worry about it.

I didn't mention that he knew my old and infamous first fanfiction pen name. Maybe I should have. In any case, two days later I was on a plane flying to the other side of the country, and it made me feel a little better knowing that the man from the wedding would have trouble finding me back in my home state.

I figured it like this: maybe he was a psycho-stalker fan of mine, which was weird considering just how shitty my PinkWing fics really were, but let's suspend disbelief for just a second and say that this is true. So he hacks around (I don't know computers very well so let's suspend belief here, too) and finds out where I live. Considering that I posted all of my PinkWing fics from my parents' home computer, and considering that my parents have neither moved nor switched computers since I posted as PinkWing, (outdated technology for the win!) it would be easy to figure out my old address and learn about the wedding. Or, case two, he was a Yu Yu Hakusho addict who hated what I did with the characters and was out to kill me for it and did the whole tracing thing to find out where I live so he could murder me in my sleep.

This second option seemed a lot more plausible considering the whole 'ruining people's lives' comment.

Nevertheless, I tried to put him out of my mind as I got back into the swing of college life. I updated my Graphospasm fiction as I always did, working like a diligent little bee for the sake of my sanity. But a horrible, gnawing idea made me toss and turn at night, and so when I got home from Astronomy class one day I decided that I knew what had to be done to put my mind to rest.

I needed to reread my PinkWing stories.

Logging in to my account proved difficult. For a long time I could not recall my email or password, so I had to dig through all sorts of old files to find the address. Then I had to do the password recovery option, and that took a long time, but eventually I found myself logged into my dusty old account.

Fifteen stories met me with open arms._ Update me!_ all of them seemed to scream. _Please, master, love me again!_

It was awful, really; more so than I remembered. I had fifty-two chapters of one fic, but it wasn't even at the halfway mark as far as I could tell and there wasn't any discernible plot to speak of. The rest of the stories were all false starts ranging from five to ten chapters of absolutely nothing or oneshots involving implausible M-preg and oh-look-now-Kurama's-a-girl-ZOMG!

"The fifteen-year-old me was weird," I said out loud as I powered down my computer. I had only had the heart to read the first few sentences of the stories, not daring to delve further.

My roommate, who has been lounging on her bed with a copy of Cosmopolitan magazine, raised an eyebrow at me. "So is the nineteen-year-old version."

"Yeah, but at least I'm aware of it. The fifteen-year-old me was just so... clueless. I mean, it's one thing to be a bit weird and know it but another thing to just be plain _strange and unaware_, you know?"

She shifted on her bed and flipped one glossy magazine page. "I wouldn't know."

I tried not to sigh. _Of course you wouldn't,_ I thought. _You never did anything that magazine of yours didn't recommend. _"Well, I'm going to go on a walk, maybe to the library or something. I need to stretch my legs."

"The library? On a Friday? Girl, you need a life."

I shrugged and grabbed my denim jacket, keys, and school ID. "Eh, well, text me if there are any parties."

"Sure. See ya."

"Bye."

Mackenzie and I didn't really get each other. She was a proudly plastic girl with interests in fashion and boys; I was an out-of-the-closet geek with a penchant for anime and books and little head for the latest trends. But I helped her study and she helped me look cute, so things evened out. Still, I liked going on walks all by myself to get away from all the makeup and perfume and glitter. I was sure she joyed her time alone, too.

And I needed to think, anyway.

It was still bright out despite the late afternoon status. People were taking advantage of the clear skies and sunshine to lay out on beach towels, but the wind made it chilly and I was glad for my jacket. I ignored most of the people I passed as I made my way to the athletic track, and when I reached it I began to walk around the path in wide ovals. The track lay inside a bowl of grassy slopes, and people liked to lay out on those slopes when it was sunny enough. Few people were there that day, however, and I started walking with satisfaction. Walking always helped me think.

Being watched, however, didn't.

I noticed my audience after making at least three circuits of the track. Two men sat on the hill slope, watching me. One wore sunglasses beneath his mop of dark hair, and the other had a hat pulled low over his eyes. Both wore windbreaker jackets and jeans, but I couldn't make out any other features from a distance. It was obvious, however, that they were watching me from the tilts of their heads and angles of their bodies, not to mention the way the one with the glasses smirked when I glanced at him. As I neared their section of the track, I sped up so as to get away from them more quickly. They didn't say anything to me or try to call out, but I found myself unable to relax as I completed a fourth and a fifth round of the track. Eventually I got so uncomfortable that I felt I had to leave, and as I passed them by about a hundred feet and began to hike up the hillside I heard a curt, snarky voice saying something in my direction.

"Where ya going, PinkWing?" said the boy with the sunglasses.

I froze. Turned my head to look at them. Saw the sunglass guy's satisfied smirk and the hat dude's solemn mouth peeking out from under the brim of his hat.

_They found me. _This was so not good.

They looked at me. I looked at them. Then I did what any sane human being would do in the face of a troop of stalkers: I started walking toward well-populated areas. A cursory glance behind me revealed that the boys stood up to trail in my steps like loyal dogs, so I sped up. So did they.

Good thing people were about. _Please, please don't let them get me before I get to the library,_ I thought. Luck was on my side that day, though, because soon enough the library's marble steps loomed ahead of me, and I skipped up them like a mountain goat. But there was a line at the check-in counter, and I got in it with my heart hammering in my throat. The library's doors swung open a moment later. My blood went cold.

The two boys got in line behind me. One smelled like an overdose of aftershave.

"So, PinkWing," said Sunglasses. "Gonna check out another book to murder?"

I have been to enough self-defense seminars to know that you're not supposed to engage stalkers, but my nervous habit of talking too much got the better of me. "I don't know what you're talking about," I said, and my voice—stupid thing—shook.

"Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that."

I reached the head of the line and showed my school ID to the clerk behind the desk before hustling off. The boy's progress after me was stalled, however, by their lack of ID, and they had to fill in guest forms that were expansive enough to buy me, by my estimation, a good five minutes. I scurried with a heavy heart toward the back of the library and the labyrinth of book cases that lay within. In the center of the first floor's book-ish maze was a spiraling staircase that led to the library's upper level; I vaulted up it, then circled back around to the library's _back_ staircase and stopped when I was halfway down the flight. (The library, for the record, has five staircases—the middle one, the back one, the front one, and one on both the eastern and western sides of the library. Don't ask me why there are so many because I really can't tell you. Seriously. The damn place was built in the 1800s or something; who really knows at this point?)

_If that doesn't confuse them then I don't know what will,_ I thought, puffing from exertion. _Just who are these people?_

There was a window in that staircase, and as I tried to catch my breath I looked out at a group of guys playing ultimate Frisbee on an expanse of lawn behind the library building. They all looked so carefree and happy as they jumped about and ran around each other, except maybe for that one guy standing at the edge of the field who was wearing all black and was scowling straight up at my window—

I ducked instinctively and uttered a small scream. My hands flew to cover my mouth, but it did no good. My eyes welled with tears, and despite my frazzled nerves I peeked up over the window sill, and...

—and ducked back down again because he was still there and he was still staring.

I sobbed once, twice, three times. "I'm too high-strung for this!" I screeched before realizing that loud sounds in a freaking _library_ were a dead giveaway to my position. The thought was echoed by a sudden sound of feet on the stairs above me, and with a curse I started down the stairs toward the first floor. I took the steps three at a time, swallowing my tears as I went, and I burst out of the stairwell doors in between two rows of books. But I didn't go far—oh no, because I had a sudden explosion of inspiration. I simply jogged three rows over and squatted on my heels, studying the bottom line of the books like they contained a cure for cancer. They were only dictionaries, of course, bound in smooth blue material, but I digress._ Choices, choices,_ I thought, trying to act natural. _Aa-Bb, or Ee-Ff? Or maybe I should go totally out on a limb and pick up the Xx-Zz? This is tough; my whole life depends on this decision..._

Satisfaction did not even begin to cover my emotions when Sunglasses and Hat Man thundered out of the stairwell and kept going straight, not thinking I would do something as stupid (or brilliant?) as hide in relatively plain sight. I sighed and waited a few moment before standing up, and then I brushed off my pant legs and made to go right back up the stairs I had just come down. But as I turned the corner around my row of books, I ran smack-dab into someone. He was about my height, and I suddenly found myself staring at a pair of very expressive green eyes—too green eyes, too green to be real eyes, eyes that were freakin' _Crayola_, man, and that doesn't exist, right?

Right?

"I'm sorry, I didn't see you there," he said in a smooth, even voice. I gaped at him. "Did I hurt you, PinkWing?"

I worked my mouth around as I tried to formulate a response. I started smiling that hysterical smile I get when I'm too nervous to form an appropriate expression. He, to my horror, smiled right back.

"That is IT," I said, laughing a little from the sheer awfulness of it all, and his smile wavered. "I am NOT TAKING THIS SHIT ANYMORE!"

And then I did the thing my mother told me never to do to strangers: I accepted candy from him. Ha ha, I'm kidding: I pushed him. Hard, in the armpits, using the heel of my hands the way linebackers do to throw people off-balance. He wasn't expecting that, apparently, and stumbled just enough for me to dart past him and hit the stairs at a dead run. Standing on the first landing, however, was another person I absolutely did not wish to see.

It was Wedding Man, Dancer Boy, Ringleader, whatever you want to call him.

I stopped short and stared at him, at his robe-like clothes in blue and red and his satisfied smirk. Green Eyes came up behind me on quiet feet.

"Good work," said Wedding Man.

"Don't mention it," said Green Eyes, and then I felt his hand on my shoulder. My nervous-smile twitched back into place. "Stay still, PinkWing, while the others arrive."

Sweat beaded on my temple. "Would it be stupid to ask what I did to deserve this?" My voice

(along with my knees) shook like jello.

"Yes," said Wedding Man.

"You have her?" said and unfamiliar voice. Footsteps on the upper stairs drew close, and then the small, compact man wearing all black and a stocking cap joined Wedding Man on the landing.

"Yes. She's not getting away now," said Green Eyes.

"Took you long enough," Beanie Boy grumbled, and then Sunglasses and Hat Man entered from behind Green Eyes.

"We miss anything good?" Sunglasses asked, chipper.

"Looks like the good stuff is just starting, to me," Hat Man said. He had a deep, gravelly voice that set my teeth on edge.

"So what happens now?" I babbled. "You kill me? Torture me for information? Hold me hostage for money? My parents aren't rich and I'm single so there's no boyfriend to swindle, but my grandmother—"

"She talks too much to be a writer," Beanie said with obvious disgust. "Shut her up, will you?"

"Certainly," Green Eyes said, and as his fingers tightened on my collarbone the floor rushed up to meet me. Blackness followed not long after and, for a while, I slept.

* * *

Part Five: The Beginnings of a Plot (Oh lordy...)

* * *

When I woke up I found myself in a hotel room. It was a small room with two queen beds, a desk/chair combo, a couch that would likely turn into another bed, and a TV—typical hotel room, really. What was _not _typical were my circumstances of detainment. Someone, it seemed, had tied my legs to the chair's legs and my arms behind the chair's backrest, just like the way James Bond usually gets tied when he's detained by the enemy or an evil mastermind. But I am not a secret agent schooled in the art of escape by any means—I struggled for a second and only succeeded in making the knots pull tighter, and then I did what no superhero or secret agent in their right mind would _ever _do: I called out for help.

"Um, hello?" I asked the empty room. "I'm, um, kind of stuck. Help is... appreciated?"

No one answered.

I swallowed on a dry throat as I took another look around me. The typical hotel room was not as typical as I first deduced. Five suitcases and a duffel bag sat in the aisle between the two beds, and two laptop computers sat on the desk. But what really took the cake was the sword lying on the bed nearest me.

I stared at it for a long time. It was in a black sheath and the sword appeared to be of the thin, double-edged, and straight variety. A red cloth had been tied around the handle, but the color was blotchy and uneven and...

Wait. Blotchy, brownish red. Uneven. On a sword.

_BLOOD?_

"Oh holy mother of Thomas Edison," I deadpanned. "I'm going to be tortured and kill by fanfiction addicts."

A creak made my head swivel toward the door. "Only if you refuse to cooperate with us," said Wedding Dancer as he and his buddies filed inside. Sunglasses and Hat Man sat on the bed closest to me; Dancer remained standing; Green Eyes took the chair by the room's desk; Beanie leaned against the wall by the bathroom. My eyes flickered to each of them in turn; they all stared right back at me.

"So, um, cooperation," I said at last. "Yes, let's do that. I think I can handle that."

Sunglasses—who was still wearing his namesake despite being indoors—laughed. "So long as you can handle this situation, first."

"And... and what situation would that be?"

"Oh, you should know since you brought it on yourself," Sunglasses said.

All that cryptic junk was beginning to grate on my nerves. _You did this,_ Georgia,_ you did that,_ Georgia, and never any real answers, dammit! My nerves quelled somewhat in the face of extreme annoyance. "But, sadly, I don't know what it is I brought," I said. "An explanation couldn't go wrong."

Sunglasses looked at Dancer. In fact, everyone looked at Dancer. The man, in response, let out a sigh and put his fingers to his forehead.

"This is the fastest way to get our point across," he said. He shot me a look of disdain mixed with... well, I don't know what. "Try not to faint."

His presumption of female weakness irked me. I opened my mouth and replied: "I don't think I'm going to... oh. Oh my God. OH MY GOD, what the fuck is THIS shit?"

Each member of my little stalking party had begun to take off various articles of clothing—superfluous ones, in most cases, but still. Let me take a second to describe for you exactly what went down with each person.

Sunglasses removed his... well, sunglasses. I hadn't quite noticed before then how much they dominated his face until they were gone, and I saw his wide, smirking brown eyes glitter as he swept his fingers through his hair and pulled it all back and away from his forehead.

Hat Man took off the hat. A mushed mess of springy curls—shaded light brown with a ginger tint—spilled out, and he began to pull them into a poofy style with his fingers as I watched. His small brown eyes crinkled as he concentrated, and when he got his hair set to rights he pulled off his jacket to reveal incredibly muscular arms and a white wifebeater shirt that stretched tight across his broad chest.

Green Eyes didn't do all that much. Reaching back behind his head, he jerked sharply with his wrist and came away with a hair-tie held between two fingers. Hair tumbled over his shoulders, gleaming as red as paint. Somehow, I hadn't noticed the color while it had been restrained in his ponytail. He looked like Christmas with those eyes and that hair, and I noticed that he was a lot more handsome than I initially gave him credit for. Girlier, too. Definitely not my type.

Beanie swept off his hat and I was bombarded by the sight of his spiky hair attempting to disembowel the ceiling. I was also bombarded by the sight of an eye— a_ purple _one—glowing like a gem in the center of his forehead. The crimson color of his two normal eyes also showed up in stunning clarity when set next to his shock of blue-black hair. He pulled his long-sleeved shirt off over his head, revealing very well-toned abs and arms, but what drew my attention was the black mark encircling one of his arms from his wrist to his elbow. The tattoo looked (or did mine eyes deceive me?) like a dragon.

Wedding Man had what was perhaps the most subtle change. He simply brushed his fingers over his forehead for a second before removing them again, and when he did a small black mark marred his pale flesh. 'Jr.', it read.

My eyes went buggy and my jaw dropped. I blinked at them all, eyes moving from person to person in disbelief.

"Well _shit_," I said.

They stared at me with guarded expressions before Green Eyes (no, Kurama) murmured: "She's taking this fairly well, I think."

But he had hardly gotten the words out of his mouth when my eyes rolled back into my head and I was swimming, for the second time that day, in the light of my unconsciousness.

* * *

Part Six: More of the Damned Plot

* * *

I wasn't _really_ blacked out; it was more like I had just forgot how to be conscious for a few moments. My head snapped back up after lolling against my chest for a second or two, and I blinked at my captors—no, my _characters_—for a second before I could say a single word. And that word—monosyllabic and tense—was: "How?"

"The 'how' is a lot less important than the 'why,'" said Wedding-Man-turned-Koenma.

I stopped gaping and scowled. "Why, then?"

"It's simple, PinkWink," Koenma said. "You wrote about us. We did you a favor by lending you our characters, and now we need a favor from you in return."

Why did I not like the sound of that? "Listen, guys, I know what I wrote as PinkWing may have upset you, but I'm a changed person now. Honest."

"Like we care," Hiei snarled. The hat he clutched tight between his fingers looked about ready to tear, but luckily he let the cap go in order to put his shirt back on.

"Hey, I'll even take the stories down, no problem."

"We don't want you to 'take them down,'" Koenma said. "I'm afraid it's far to late to just 'take them down.'"

My heart plummeted to the bottom of my torso. "'Too late'? What do you mean 'too late?' Look, I get that you're offended that I wrote you gay a couple of times, but I have a disclaimer for a reason! Everyone who reads my stuff knows you're not actually like that! I mean, it's FAN fiction. Fan. FAN. That's the whole point of it!"

"Our reputations are not what's at stake in this case," Kurama said.

"Do you honestly think we give a damn about your opinions of us?" Hiei said.

"It is pretty gross, though," Kuwabara grumbled, and Yusuke nodded.

"Everyone, back to the topic at hand," Koenma said. He studied me through narrow eyes. "Now, about that favor..."

"Whatever it is, I'll do it."

Kurama raised an eyebrow. "That was too easy."

I shrugged. "Hey, if the anime is at all true then it means that any one of you could kill me with a flick of your fingers. I'm too much a coward to willingly play with fire."

Hiei chuckled without humor. "Smart girl."

"Hey, wait a second, don't you even want to know what the favor is?" Kuwabara asked, leaning his elbows on his knees. He stared at me with a concerned expression. Good ol' Kuwa-chan.

"I figure you'll tell me when you need to. If there's anything writing fanfiction about you guys has taught me, it's that 'everything will be revealed eventually, just as soon as the author decides to stop torturing their reviewers and get over their cliffhanger fetish'... OK, well, maybe the second half doesn't exactly apply here, but the principle is still the same." I jiggled my hands and feet around for a second. "Mind untying me? I'm not going to run. You're all too fast for that."

Kuwabara, bless him, got up and started to walk toward me, but Koenma shot him a sharp look and the psychic sat down. "Not until you hear everything and still decide that running is a bad option," the prince said.

I shrugged again. "Eh, fine by me. Start talking and get this whole shebang over with, then. I have homework to do by tomorrow." The casual tone of my statements made them all stare. "What?" I asked. "I'm just rolling with the flow."

"Most people go into denial when they meet us. Say it's all a dream, or a nightmare."

I snorted. "You think this phases me? I_ live_ in a dream world, dude. I'm a creative writing major!"

* * *

Part Seven: The Reveal

* * *

"So let me get this straight," I said once Koenma's very well-rehearsed speech came to a loquacious close. "Every time someone posts a fanfiction chapter about you, you experience it. Emotions, sensations, the whole ordeal."

Everyone nodded.

"And this doesn't really bother you because the effects don't last more than a nanosecond or so."

"It bothers _me _to see images of me making out with Yusuke," Kuwabara grumbled, and Yusuke shuddered.

"Still, once the moment is over, you're through. Done deal. And when people posts chapters on a regular basis you can pretty much ignore the way the updates make you feel because they all flow together like a movie reel you keep pausing and unpausing. But when people start fics and don't finish them, you get stuck in... what was the word you used?"

"Limbo," said Koenma.

"OK, limbo. You're left stranded in the middle of a story, and the uncertainty of how the fic ends gnaws at you like a toothache. You get stuck with a mental picture of the last image the author wrote, and you're incapable of moving on with your _own_ life until you reach a resolution. Is that about it?"

Koenma scowled at me. "In simple terms, yes."

"So it's mostly an annoyance? You're tracking down people all over the world because you're _annoyed _that they abandoned their stories?"

"Hey, wait, it's worse than that!" Yusuke interjected.

"I dream about these stories every night," Kurama said. "I look at things through the framework of those unfinished stories. It affects the way I interact with my family and friends, and it's hard to concentrate when you have, as you put it, a toothache gnawing at your every thought. Until a story is finished, I feel like the story is forcing its own thought processes into my head. I'm not me anymore, not until the story is complete and I am released from it."

"The longer a story is abandoned, the longer it festers and bothers us," Kuwabara added. "Like an untreated cavity, if you wanna keep talking about toothaches."

"The severity of how it affects us is also based on the story's point of view and main character," said Koenma. "If it's first person from my perspective, it's awful. If it's first person from someone else's point of view but I'm a main character, the affects are intense but not unbearable."

"It barely even registers if you're a minor character with only a few lines and actions," Kuwabara said suddenly. "Koenma and I have it the easiest, to tell you the truth. Neither of us are that popular."

I grinned. "You're one of my favorites if it makes you feel any better," I said to Kuwabara.

But he didn't smile back. "You said some pretty mean things about me, PinkWing. I've read your stories."

Guilt made my ears burn. "I don't remember that. It's been so long since I updated, and..."

"And that's one of our biggest concerns here," Kurama said. "The longer a story is left untouched, the harder it becomes for us to bear."

"You've left your stories alone for five years," said Koenma. "They've stagnated past the point of no return. And that brings us back to the favor you owe us."

"Deleting the stories?"

If only it was that simple. "No," said Kurama. "That would just make it worse. Deleting it doesn't help. The images are burned into us. As Koenma said, we're past the point of no return."

"We want you to_ finish_ them," Yusuke said. "That's the only way to release us."

I let that sink in for a minute or two. "I don't remember the endings, though. Hell, I barely remember _writing_ them!"

"Just make something up," said Koenma, impatient. "You're a writer, right?"

"But I had plans for those stories!" I protested. An idea lit up like a lightbulb. "Look, I'm definitely going to finish my Graphospasm stories. Aren't those enough?"

"Graphospasm?" Yusuke said, alarm making his eyes glimmer. "You mean you have _two_ pen names?"

"Uh, yeah. When PinkWing got flamed into next Tuesday I quit, waited a few years until I got my courage back, and then I opened a new account."

Kurama and Koenma both went for the laptops with pointed urgency.

"Why, is that bad?" I asked as they booted the computers up.

Kuwabara groaned and face-palmed. "I'm praying the Graphospasm stories aren't nearly as stupid as the PinkWing ones!"

"Hey, you're portrayed really well in my best story," I said, once again jumping to my own defense.

"Graphospasm, Graphospasm..." Kurama said as he squinted at his laptop's screen. "Well, you're not on our list of high-profile authors."

"And PinkWing is?" I asked, surprised.

"Of course. That many flames on so few chapters and the sheer amount of time it's been around make it stand out from the crowd."

I slumped in my seat, crestfallen by this news.

Kurama chuckled. "I guess we forgot to mention that the more well-read the story is, the more it affects us."

"Found you," Koenma suddenly said. "You're on our low profile list."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" I asked defensively. Was he insulting my writing? No way would I stand for that!

"Mostly pleasant plots, no character death, no immediate signs of story abandonment... but there is a warning label on a few of your stories that you haven't updated in about a month. Honestly, Graphospasm hardly registered on our radar at all thanks to your strict updating schedule."

"And I don't suppose that my dedication to being Graphospasm will make up for my lack of PinkWing-ing?"

"Nope," Yusuke said, grinning.

"Ugh. Well, this sucks. I never wanted to look at those stories again."

"Too bad," said Yusuke, still grinning.

"Think of us as very insistent inspiration," Kurama said as he closed his laptop.

"Insistent?" Hiei repeated. His voice made me jump; I had almost forgotten about him. "I'll force her to write even if she dies in the process."

"Dieing is not high on my list of priorities, sorry," I said hastily. "But finishing those stories is, as of this moment. So can you please untie me?"

Kuwabara finally moved to undo the ropes. "Hey, I think I remember your Graphospasm stories," he said, face lighting up as he freed one of my legs. "Girl with a bum leg named Dani, right?"

"That's the one."

My second leg was freed. "I am pretty cool in that one, aren't I?"

"I tried my very best to do you justice. And I was pretty young and stupid when I wrote as PinkWing; you could say that maturity made you much cooler."

He looked pensive. "Well, I'm still a little hurt about the PinkWing stuff, but that kind of makes me feel better. Thanks!"

"Don't mention it," I said as the rope slid away from my wrists. I rubbed the raw skin and stretched my arms over my head before standing, but the blood rushed to my head anyway and I had to sit back down. "Ugh, headrush. So what happens now?"

Koenma's response was to set his laptop on my... well, lap. "Get writing," he said, and I blanched.

"Um, I think I should probably reread all my stories first. I have no idea where I left off."

"So look it up. I have wifi on that laptop."

_Does he really expect me to just hole up in here until everything's finished?_ I thought. "Um, sorry, but I really think I should be getting back to the school. My roommate will be missing me and I have homework to do." I stood up and took a step forward, intent on leaving. "How long have I been gone, anyway?"

Hiei met me head on. "Don't even think about leaving," he growled, staring up at me through eyes so red they looked fake.

Hiei is 4'10, according to the anime. I am 5'10, according to a tape measure. Therefore, I am an entire foot taller than him. The difference, I assure you, is striking.

"Better back up a bit," I said. My nerves were mostly gone at that point. "If I fall I'll squish you."

"As if you could even fall that fast."

"As if you could get out of the way in time. How much ground do you cover in a step—a half-inch?"

"Now, now, I think PinkWing is right," Kuwabara said, darting to stand between me and the irate fire demon. "She can't skip school; people will worry and then they'll think we kidnapped her."

"But we can't just let her go back by herself," Hiei snapped. "She'll run off again."

"Um, you guys could all just sleep over," I said.

They looked at me as if I was crazy.

I just shrugged. "There's an empty room next door to mine, and I live in a coed dorm. I don't know where the keys to the room are or anything, but Kurama and Hiei, you're thieves, and Yusuke and Kuwabara are detectives, so couldn't you just find them and then filch them?"

Silence.

"That could work," Koenma said at last.

"Colleges typically have a Campus Life office that oversees the residence halls," Kurama said. "They should have the keys in there."

"Or you could just break in through the window or something," I said. "One or two of you could watch me and the rest of you could stay here in this hotel. Take shifts and junk."

"I like it," said Yusuke. "Sleuthy. Secretive."

"Illegal," Kurama added.

"And what do you care about illegal, Foxy McThief-Pants?" I asked him, and he didn't grace me with a response.

"I can get in the window," Hiei said, "so don't bother with the stupid keys."

"Keys might be better," I said, and I shut my mouth when Hiei glared at me.

"Well, that's settled," Kuwabara said. "What are we waiting for?"

And, since no one could come up with a good enough excuse, we made like doggies and skedaddled. But as the boys grabbed their bags and started to file out of the hotel room, a very pressing thought occurred to me. And it really was a pressing question. The fate of fanfiction as we knew it could ride on that question!

"Uh, guys?" I asked as we went into the hall.

"What is it now?" Hiei said, glaring at me.

I stared down at him with pursed lips. "I was wondering," I said, "how y'all can speak English so well. I mean, you're Japanese, right?"

They exchanged glances with one another.

"Or is that a Spirit World mystery you can't talk about?" I asked, eagerness fading. "I'm sorry, I won't pry—"

"It's... not that," Kurama said, smiling in a pained sort of way.

"Even Spirit World couldn't come up with a torture like that," Yusuke groaned.

"Hey, it worked, didn't it?" Koenma snapped.

"What worked?" I asked. "Oh c'mon, what was it? Some insta-learn injection or info download? Absorption of a soul of an English professor? What? I won't tell!"

"Say the name of that blasted contraption and I will gut you where you stand," Hiei snarled, grip tightening on his sword.

Kurama edged away from Hiei. "It's just... well, PinkWing, have you ever heard of 'Rosetta Stone?'" Kurama asked, and he was forced to run down the hall at top speed as Hiei chased after him with murder on his mind.

* * *

_NOTES:_

_Thanks for reading this drivel! It's more for my own enjoyment than anything, but I still hope you found it amusing. Again, please don't take this too seriously. It's just for fun, so thanks for reading! And yes, I do have a defunct account on this site, but it's not under the name PinkWing. I shan't ever tell you its dreaded identity! NEVER! It really was that bad, though, with the M-preg and everything I mentioned. GODAWFUL! I'm glad I've changed... at least, I think I've changed. _O_O;;


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Lament: A Cautionary Tale

By Graphospasm

* * *

Part Eight: Making Camp

* * *

"You didn't mention that you live on the third floor," Koenma said, glaring at me.

"I _told _you that stealing the keys would be a good idea, but nooooo, the shrimp said he could do it _his _way," I said as we watched the aforementioned short one jump from branch to branch. Luckily for us a very tall, very wide tree straddled the space between mine and the empty room's windows, making getting up there a lot less of a chore than one might think. Kuwabara, Yusuke, and Kurama stood near the street (my window faced the street, which held various frat (and meth) houses on its other side) to watch for cars or passersby. Miraculously, none appeared despite it being late at night on a Friday on a street with fraternities (those things tend to go hand in hand).

"And anyway," I continued, "Hiei's doing just fine. Look at 'im! He's like a monkey."

A voice drifted down from above: an angry voice. "I heard that!" Hiei snapped, and I 'eeped' in fright before remembering just how much bigger than him I was.

"And how about the rest of us?" Koenma persisted. "Some of us aren't as agile as Hiei!"

Yusuke turned his head long enough to chortle: "People like _you_, you mean?"

Koenma's nose turned red. "That's not the point!"

I couldn't help rolling my eyes. "The room doors can be unlocked from the inside, dumbass. Once Hiei gets in I'll just take you up on the main stairs, so don't freak out on me. Sheesh."

Koenma fell quiet, placated, as Hiei—still crouched on a limb of the gnarled tree outside my window—focused his gaze on the appropriate window and stared at it, hard. A second later the window slid open (ah, the joys of telekinesis), and he popped the screen out with his hands before jumping inside.

I motioned to the others that the window was open. "All right, everyone, follow me," I said, walking off, and Koenma obeyed without a word. The others, however, all decided to climb the tree to get inside, and as Yusuke shot Koenma a very pointed and very degrading grin I heard the prince mutter: "Showoffs."

We circled around the building to get to the front entrance, with me warily watching for any of my suitemates, and after I unlocked the front door we stepped onto the main staircase. The three flights up to my dorm went past in a blur of beige tile and the scents of communal living—sweat, pizza, and laundry detergent, mostly—and when we reached my floor I unlocked my common room's door and poked my head inside.

I live in a suite-style dorm. Five two-person rooms surround a common room and share a bathroom, but since the room next to mine was empty and off-limits I wanted to be sure that no one saw us go in. I had a few sticks-in-the-mud in my suite; they would report suspicious activity if any became apparent.

Oh, and yes, my nerves were on red-alert during the sneaking process. Why had I even suggested this in the first place?

"Coast's clear," I murmured, mouth dry and heart racing, and I led Koenma across the common space to the room Hiei had broken into. I rapped my knuckles on it three times before it popped open with a click; we dashed in before anyone could happen upon us standing before a room that should have remained locked. The boys were all standing around, looking tense.

"No one saw us," I said as I shut the door behind Koenma, and they relaxed. "Will all of you sleep here tonight?" I figured they would want to sleep sooner or later. But there were only two mattresses in the room, not nearly enough for everyone, and—

"We all have air mattresses," said Kuwabara when he saw my concerned face and what I was looking at. "I made sure we did before we left. You never know where you'll end up sleeping."

His foresight pleased me—I knew he was smart!

"Good," I said. I took a deep breath before trying to sound authoritative. "Well, bathroom's down the hall, so just make sure no one's in there before you go in. And if someone sees you, say you're a prospective student. That should keep you from getting checked up on." A thought occurred, then, making my eyes go wide. "Oh, and I should mention—if you see a _really skinny _girl with big blue eyes and long black hair, that's our RA—er, our resident assistant, Rachael. If you meet her, tell her you're related to me and only just got here, like, two minutes before."

I paused for a second, thinking, and sighed.

"Actually," I said, "just say you're related to me to _everyone_. To keep things simple, and stuff."

Yusuke wanted to know: "Why?"

"Because the prospective student line won't work on my RA," I told him. "She's warned, like, two week in advance when the prospies are going to show up. And besides, I don't think I could handle more than one lie at a time. I'm not too good at keeping things like that straight." I glanced at my watch: it was nearly midnight. "Anyway, my roommate probably went partying since it's Friday and I don't have anywhere to be tomorrow, so should we go ahead and get started?"

It was as if I had said 'action' on a movie set. Kuwabara and Yusuke started taking out and setting up air-mattresses, Hiei sat on one of the room's two beds and began to inspect the blade of his sword for imperfections, and Kurama immediately went for his bag and removed the laptop from its depths. He placed the silver machine on one of the room's two desks and began to search for an outlet to plug a power chord into, and I said: "Check on the wall to your left. The outlet's hidden by the desk."

He did so and found what he needed with a smile in my direction. "Sit and start reading. Also, how do you get to your school's wifi network?"

I raised an eyebrow. "It can be accessed through a process known only to select members of the technical crew." When he raised his own eyebrows I said: "I'm kidding. I'm just bad with computers. Let me go get my own laptop; that'll make this easier." I moved toward the door.

Hiei cocked his head in my direction. "Wait thirty seconds before leaving," he said, and I was going to ask why when I heard someone walk past. Another door slammed down the hall, and I reminded myself to ask Hiei if the coast was clear every time I left the room.

My own room was dark and empty. Mackenzie had left a note on my desk detailing the night's excursions (two frat houses followed by a band playing at Jazz House), but otherwise she did not appear to have been disturbed by my long absence. _Typical,_ I thought as I gathered up my laptop and its power chord. I also picked up a notebook and pen just in case I needed it. _Gone for six hours, not a word to her, and she hardly notices. What a great roommate I have. _

Then, as I thought about great roommates, I decided to do something nice for my guests. I went into my closet and got all of my extra sheets and blankets (the nights here were still cold) and made to leave with my bounty. Then I noticed something else.

My Yu Yu Hakusho posters.

My cheeks immediately erupted into an intense blush._ If they saw those I'd never live it down! _I thought, and my embarrassment prompted me into immediate action. I took a minute to remove the posters, carefully roll them, and then stuff them all into the back of my closet. I also tidied up, hiding unmentionables and making my bed chief among those chores. That taken care of, I listened for noise in the hallway before going back to the boys' room.

"We need a code," I said as I set the wad of stuff atop the room's empty desk. "Like a special knock so you don't let someone in who isn't supposed to see you. Will the shave-and-a-haircut knock work?"

"Sounds fine to me," Kuwabara said, and he demonstrated on one of the bedposts.

I shot him a smile and tossed him a pillow. "Also, I brought bedding. You're welcome. Get comfy."

"That's my line," Koenma said as he took the laptop out of my hands and began to set it up. "Sit, read, then write. No more wasting time." He shoved me into the desk's chair a second later, the bounce making me nip my own tongue on accident.

"What, got more authors to harass?" I grumbled around the sharp pain. I logged in and found my PinkWing page, sighing as I settled down to read fics better left unseen by the eyes of mortal man.

Or invulnerable men, in this case. Demons… ugh.

"As a matter of fact, we do," Koenma said. I would have asked who he would go after next (maybe we were buddies! Hell, maybe I could warn them, you know?) but when I opened my mouth to ask he pointed at the computer and shook his head.

* * *

Part Nine: Some Inevitable Conflict and Pop Culture References

* * *

"That's it, I'm done," I groaned. I pushed aside the computer and let my head fall with a smack on the desk.

"You read them _all_?" Yusuke asked, shocked. The boys had all been sitting around talking, or sword-polishing, or reading, or using the internet, or whatever, while I read my old fics. It was two in the morning; I'd been reading horrible fanfiction for two hours. "There were, like, twenty stories on there!"

"I got through all of the short ones and about half of the long one," I said, rubbing my temples. "I have an awful headache."

"You need to finish reading," Hiei snapped. His hand visibly tightened around the hilt of his sword. "Get to it. Now."

"She won't retain the stories if she's exhausted," Kurama reasoned as he slowly turned the page of his book (which had a Japanese title, I noticed). "Would you like to take a break for now, PinkWing?"

"Yes, gladly, but that reminds me," I said. My shoulder cracked when I rolled them. "My name _isn't_ PinkWing, and it's not Graphospasm, either. So in the interest of not sounding really weird in front of my classmates, I'd appreciate it if you called me by my real name."

"Which is?"

"Georgia."

Kuwabara's eyes narrowed. "Like the state?" he asked. "Y'know, like Georgia peaches and all that?"

"Yup," I said. "And my sister's name is 'Virginia'."

Kurama, Kuwabara, and Koenma all looked amused at that. Yusuke and Hiei, however, didn't seem to get the joke. Hiei mouth had pressed into a thin line of confusion, while Yusuke just stared at me like I had just turned into a rabbit.

"'Virginia' is the name of another state," I explained gently.

Hiei's eyes rolled. Yusuke—after a second of contemplation—looked about ready to be sick.

"Themed _names_?" he asked in disbelief. "I've seen people do that for their pets, but never people! That's the weirdest thing I've ever heard!"

It was my turn to roll my eyes. "You're telling _me_?" I asked, sarcasm lacing my tone like arsenic. "You wouldn't believe all the crap I got in gradeschool!" I shook my head. "Not the point. I got some work done already, so I feel like I deserve a break."

"And what kind of work did you get done, exactly?" Koenma asked, incredulous of my progress.

I gestured at the notebook next to the computer. It was open and had about five pages covered front and back with plot notes and ideas. I had kept a mini-journal as I read.

"Look through that and see if it passes muster," I told him. "Those are my ideas for finishing up all my stories. I can turn a lot of them into two-shots or mini-fics no more than five chapters long, which will make this process a helluva lot shorter. I can also edit a few to make them one-shots with clear endings."

"Oneshots with open endings are the worst," Kuwabara said in a low voice accompanied by a pronounced shudder. Everyone nodded in agreement,

"I'll look them over," Koenma said, but he picked the notebook up with an expression that said he would rather swallow a bug. "They better be good, PinkWing."

My mouth twitched. "Call me _Georgia_," I said. "Or 'Jo.' My friends all do."

Koenma delivered unto me a poisonous sort of smile. "Then I guess it's a good thing we aren't friends," he said, brown eyes glittering.

My jaw dropped.

"Whoa there!" Kuwabara protested. "She's been really good about all this so far!"

Even though the prince's words hurt, I chose not to argue the situation. I looked at Kuwabara with a shake of my head to indicate I didn't care what Koenma had to say; though the psychic didn't look happy, he sank back into his seat and didn't try to press the matter.

"I'm going to go for a walk," I said, voice soft, and I stood up. "Tell me what you think of those ideas when I get back."

"Wait, you're going out at 2 AM?" Hiei asked… er, snapped He either looked concerned for my safety, or concerned that I was going to try to get away. It was hard to tell with that one, but if I were a betting woman (which I'm not) I'd guess that it was the latter. I won't flatter myself by thinking otherwise.

"We're going with you," Koenma said, sharing Hiei's obvious 'safety' concerns. "Everyone, get up."

I swallowed, eyes widening when Kurama, Hiei, Kuwabara, and Yusuke all climbed wearily to their feet. "_All_ of you?" I asked.

A pause. "Well, maybe not all," said Koenma. "I have business to attend to back in Spirit World."

"I wouldn't mind stretching my legs," Kurama said, shutting his computer.

"Me neither," Kuwabara said, and Yusuke nodded alongside him.

"Then, um… let me get my jacket," I said, fidgeting. I liked taking walks alone, not with an audience. "Is it safe to go out, Hiei?"

He hopped off the bed, leaving his sword behind with a flutter of jet black cloak. "Yes," he said. "Let's go."

The boys began pulling on jackets, and I distinctly heard Yusuke say something about seeing a girl's room. The remark accompanied a lecherous laugh, one that had me going red around the ears.

"Uh... I hate to ask again, but... _all_ of you?" I stuttered.

They looked at each other, clearly having a private conversation I was not meant to be privy to.

"Of course," Kurama eventually said in a sweet, caring voice. "It wouldn't be fair to leave anyone behind, would it?"

Looking at the fox demon's guileless smile, I mentally reminded myself that the redhead was not to be trusted.

"I guess not," I relented. I turned to Yusuke. "But I'm just grabbing my jacket, so behave!"

The detective tossed up his hands in affront. "Who, me?" he asked innocently.

"And don't trust brown-eyes here, either," I muttered to myself.

The aforementioned eyes thinned. "What was that?"

"Nothing!"

When Hiei gave the signal that the way was clear, I reluctantly went out into the hall and unlocked my room, keys jingling like bones in my shaking hands. The boys followed a second later, while Koenma stayed behind. _Thank God I took down those posters, _I thought as I shut the door behind us and grabbed a sweatshirt off of my coat rack. I also put on tennis shoes while everyone looked around. Kuwabara sat down at my desk and began to inspect my collection of movies, nodding when he saw a title he liked.

"Your side's really plain," Yusuke said as he inspected my black bedspread and sheets. "But your roommate seems really loud." She had themed sheets, furniture, pillows, accessories and posters in shades of pink and black, most of them bearing some form of glitter or another. "Party girl?"

"You can tell?" I said wryly, and that's when I heard something out in the hall... clink.

Keychains.

And lots of them.

And familiar ones, at that.

"Is that you in there, Jo?" a feminine voice slurred.

"Aw, crap," Yusuke blurted.

The keys tinkled even louder. "Who's with you?" my came my roommate's drunken drawl, and—

A key entered the lock. The doorknob turned. Instinct took over as the boys tensed, unsure of what to do.

"Mackenzie, no!" I screeched, and I slammed myself up against the door.

The doorknob jiggled beneath my hand when she tried to force her way inside.

"Huh? Why can't I come in?" she asked. Then she gasped. "Are you _naked_?"

"Um, no." I thought rapidly, bouncing from foot to foot in agitation, and arrived at a (hopefully) fool-proof plan. "I mean, _yes_!" I shouted. "I forgot to put the ribbon on the door, OK?"

"Ribbon?" Kurama murmured, but I didn't answer him.

Mackenzie's surprise was evident. "Oh-em-gee!" she squealed. "This is _awesome_! Put your clothes on and let me see him! This is a historic event!"

"Um," I said, and I looked at the boys. Kurama would do, he was incredible—but no, wait, Mack would probably think he was a girl. Hiei, then? Nah, way too short, not to mention grumpy. Koenma could do, but... oh no, not with _that_ outfit, and besides, he wasn't even in the room.

That left Kuwabara and Yusuke.

My first instinct was to go for Kuwabara. A nice guy, right, who would probably play along with me thanks to his caring nature? But I wasn't about to let my roommate think that the first guy she had ever seen me with was less cute than her own boyfriend (I have a reputation to uphold, after all), so Yusuke would have to do... even if he was an inch or two shorter than me.

"All of you, leave, and use the window," I hissed. "Yusuke, you stay, and pretend that I'm Keiko."

The boys just stared at me as Kurama opened said exit.

"Jo-Jo? Are you going to let me in yet?" Mackenzie called, impatient. "I wanna see your mystery man!" Another gasp. "Or is it a mystery _woman_?"

"Man, man, definitely a man!" I shouted. Then I turned back to the boys and hissed: "Go, _now_!"

"Good luck, dude," Kuwabara muttered to Yusuke as he and the others all leaped out of the window and into the night beyond. As soon as they were gone I kicked off my shoes and ruffled my hair up a bit, and then I did the same to Yusuke's. When gel crackled under my fingers, Yusuke pulled away with a little snarl.

"What did you mean by 'ribbon?'" he asked, grabbing my wrist. "And treat you like _Keiko_? Why the hell should I do that?"

I used my other hand to finish messing up his hair, earning myself a deep scowl. "There's no time to explain!" I said. "You just need to act like we're... together."

His mouth dropped open, eyes brimming over with unasked questions.

"Yeah, it's awkward, but it's the easiest way to get out of this situation," I snapped. "Just play along with whatever I say, OK?"

Yusuke swallowed, nodded, and said: "OK. I guess. If you're sure."

"I am," I said, even though I really wasn't on the inside. One eye on Yusuke to make sure he didn't go running for the hills, I went for the door and opened it up a crack, but my efforts at keeping Mack at bay were foolhardy at best. She shouldered her way past the door and marched herself inside, glancing briefly at me before catching sight of Yusuke. Her eyes very promptly lit up.

"Cute!" she gushed, and she went into full-on-flirt mode—which wasn't hard for her considering her cute cleavage-bearing shirt, gorgeous eyes, and short skirt. "Hi, I'm Mackenzie!" she tittered, grabbing his hand to give it a vigorous shake. "It's so nice to meet you! Do you go to school here?"

"Uh, no," I interjected, moving to stand between my rabid roommate and the spirit detective. "He's a graduate student... visiting for research." I shot him a play-along-or-die look. "_Aren't you_, Yusuke?"

"Huh?" he said. Then he got it. "Oh, uh, yeah, that's right! A grad student! Doing research! On… on _anatomy_!"

My mouth and Mack's mouth fell open as one. Yusuke just looked triumphant.

Mackenzie's look turned sly. She opened her mouth (a wave of beer-stench blew my way; that explained why she was hitting on my supposed date so hard) and said: "And how's the research going?"

"Really well!" Yusuke said earnestly.

"Jo's been helping you out, huh?"

"Oh yeah!"

I buried my face in my hands as Mack broke down into hysterical laughter. When Yusuke started to laugh too (apparently he finally 'got' her little joke) I latched onto the detective's arm and grabbed my discarded shoes with my other hand. "Well, Mackenzie, we were just heading out, so see you later!" I said in a rush. "Don't wait up, we'll be fine, drink lots of water so you don't get a hangover!"

"Hey, why are you..." she asked as I pulled the thoroughly-confused Yusuke out into the common room by the hand. She followed us, stumblingly calling: "Wait, Georgia, I'm sorry I interrupted you two! And those were just jokes! I didn't mean anything by them!"

"It's OK, we were finished anyway," I grumbled as I threw the stairwell door wide open. I yanked Yusuke through it and hissed at him to start down the flights, and then I turned to Mackenzie who had come to a stop close behind me.

"Listen," I said, pointing at her nose as I advanced on her. I backed her into the common room as best I could, watching her try to walk backwards despite being tipsy. "This weekend, you're probably not going to see much of me. Don't worry, I'm fine. But I won't be around much."

"Is that guy visiting?" she slurred. Her eyes lit up with drunken joy. "OMG, long-distance relationship! Why didn't you tell me?"

I decided to go along with her little fantasy. "Yeah, that guy's my boyfriend, from far away," I lied through my teeth. "He'll be gone soon. So don't bother us!"

"Oh, I won't!" she said, grinning from ear to ear. "I promise! You won't hear a peep out of me, and—"

She stopped talking, suddenly, looking… weird. Not bad, but her expression…

"Say," she said slowly. "That guy of yours, he looked really… familiar…"

My world seemed to implode. "You're drunk," I said softly_. Oh god, my posters, she's been looking at them all year, she recognized—_

"He looked," she said, and then she swayed where she stood. Her face turned green, one hand coming up to cover her mouth.

"He looked," she said thickly, "like Jesse McCartney as an Asian," and she ran off toward the bathroom at a sprint.

About a minute later a hysterical laugh burst out of my throat and cut through the sound of her retching in the bathroom, because who in their right mind would ever have thought that such a close call could have been saved through the grace of a teenage pop singer?

* * *

_NOTES:_

_"Ribbon on the door" will be explained next chapter, but it's simple, so... basically, if you have a boy in the room and you don't want your roommate walking in at a bad time, a ribbon on the doorknob is a signal that says DON'T FREAKING COME IN, OK?_

_Ahem. I really wanted this to be as long as the first chapter, but I had these 4,000 words sitting on my hard drive for LITERALLY six months and decided that they should just get posted on their own. Plus, I like the ending. And reactions might stir up this story's long-forgotten embers and get me working on it again._

_More shenanigans to come. Not sure when, or how many, but… we'll see. _

_My roommate (though now she's my EX roommate since this story was first published a year ago; oi vey) approved of my portrayal of her (even though it's bitchier than the real her). _

_Many thanks to you readers out there! You're awesome to put up with my drivel! Saiyuri-dahlia, NA, 0nfateswings, DarlingSM, Tiggeranddash, tacobell, heve-chan, Death101-Fox Version, j.d.y., Reclun, crossyourteez, Octothorpe, LadyoftheGags, rain chant, the Under-Cover Fangirl, WorldsAngel, Kai-Chan94, Kai-Chan94, XAudra RoseX, LupinePhyre909, Thunder S Silence, BiGayStraightWhoCares, Fuurai, Katt Jeane, spiritfoxxx821, OhhTaylorJade, yonet-chan!_


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